The Fifth Wand 2
by BlueJuvenal
Summary: Morgan the witch and her Muggle cousin, James, take on one of the world's greatest magic-users.  This is a continuation from the short story, Cousins.  All characters are original, with concepts by J. K. Rowling.


**Constantinople, 1203**

Helena rushed into the sparring room from the garden-side passage. Somehow, as she was running, some of her long, fine, blond hair became entangled in her mouth. She removed the strands that were stuck between her teeth and attempted to slow her breathing. She bowed her head and looked steadily down at the polished stone of the floor.

From across the room she heard movement; she had not expected to encounter any remaining students. Her head hummed with pain and she felt a tremendous irritation blossom inside her like a putrid flower. She darted her eyes upward towards the mosaic on the north wall. Its tesserae lacked all vibrancy. Sitting on the floor beneath it, with his legs crossed over each other, was her husband, Demetrius. By his left side was a smoothly carved, rectangular box, and on his right was a large shard of gleaming crystal. His extremely long, white beard was folded over itself on his lap, covering the wand he was grasping at both ends. His many wrinkles gave his face a dark complexion. He squinted at Helena and produced a graceful smile. Helena spread her rain-gray robes with her arms and bowed her head once more.

"Master."

"Helena, my love. What news from Antioch?"

Helena blinked as a warm gust of air blew in from the garden. "No owls have come."

"I see."

Helena was sure she could hear the ache that accompanied his answer. Oddly, his face remained beaming. She continued. "The army is approaching, Master. They are crossing the Bosphorus as we speak."

Demetrius' smile faltered. "The pupils will at least be safe. After eight hundred years, they will be the last to learn the lessons of the Academy."

Her husband's Greek was pristine, and yet lifeless. Helena felt embarrassed and looked again at the stone floor. In the years she knew Demetrius, as student, lover, and wife, she never sensed such decayed hope. She wiped some dust from her forehead. "Will you proceed?"

Demetrius nodded. "I think I will. Come close to me, child, with your chin up, and listen to my words."

Helena approached. From the streets outside she could hear the clatter of many chariots. She swiftly knelt in front of her husband. He offered his hand, and she took it, placing it over her heart. She gazed at him with unyielding, gray eyes. Demetrius cleared his throat.

"The Wands are ready to be dispersed. I leave the task to you that they are done so properly. You perhaps will have many obstacles, many journeys; all ranks of people will confront you. I have no fear on that matter. You are the most talented sorceress to ever set foot in this school. You will defeat all opposition with staggering success."

Helena blushed. "Yes, master."

Demetrius motioned to the crystal on his right.

"The Sorcerer's Stone will aid you on your quest. Its elixir will protract your life to an unheard-of length. Once the task is completed, I ask that you disintegrate the Stone and join me in the jeweled fields, where we shall embrace each other until Time itself expires."

Helena licked the roof of her mouth. "Yes, master."

Demetrius detected something in her expression and he immediately became stern.

"This world is wretched, Helena, and it will always be so, at least until we have acted righteously. Do not harbor any thoughts to the contrary."

"I will not."

Demetrius took in a large, shuddery breath, released it, and lifted his wand. Helena watched carefully its round tip.

"Shall I look away?"

Demetrius shook his head and allowed a tear to trickle down his weathered nose.

"Please don't."

Helena stared at her husband stoically. Demetrius pushed the wand against his left temple.

"Until eternity, my love."

"Until eternity, my love."

Demetrius closed his eyes and uttered the incantation.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

There was a bright green flash and Demetrius collapsed onto the ground. His wand rolled away from his body and oscillated before becoming still. Helena noticed that his cheek had somehow caught a sharp edge of protruding stone and had issued blood. She drew her wand and pointed it at her husband's dead face; the blood immediately vanished and the cut was mended. She picked up Demetrius' wand; the enchanted wood felt cold beneath her fingers and caused them to itch. She remembered the thousands of spells he performed with it and was annoyed at its unfriendliness. She tucked it up her silky, gray sleeve.

Helena next pointed her wand at the Sorcerer's Stone, which lifted slightly into the air and disappeared. Flicking her wand this time, she caused the wooden, rectangular box to spring open; inside were five identical wands sculpted from solid gold. With another flick, Helena made one of the wands float, and yet with another flick, she caused the box with the four remaining wands to vanish. The fifth golden wand swayed seductively before Helena's eyes; its burnishing was exquisite. Helena gave a small giggle and grabbed it with her free hand. After stashing it within her robes, she let loose a luxurious sigh, spread her arms wide, twirled her body around, and Disapparated into the still, scented air.

**Salem, Massachusetts, U.S.A., 1997**

Morgan felt her long braid of red hair yank painfully backwards. A group of boys began laughing. She pulled her wand from beneath her school robes and spun around defiantly. Before her a smattering of junior boys was dashing away into the crowded hallway and roaring with glee. One of her companions began to plead with her.

"Come on, Morgan, just let them go. They're just a bunch of twits."

Morgan faced forward again and marched to her next class, her friends chatting in her wake. Her parents once told her that the boys who picked on her were the ones who had the crushes, but somehow this knowledge didn't improve her mood. She walked into History of European Magic and plopped down into her seat. Mr. Bell, her teacher, was standing at the front of the room, his blue robes swishing as he nodded and smiled to the incoming students. She noticed that he was joined by a very tall, very blond, adult witch with bright orange robes. Morgan was startled to notice how gray her eyes were, as if they were chiseled from stone.

Once the class filled up and all the students had taken their seats, Mr. Bell began speaking.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Mr. Bell." The students chanted back mockingly.

"I have a treat for you all today. Now that we are studying the medieval period, we will of course encounter the legend of the Four Wands. It just so happens that one of the legend's experts resides right here in Salem close to the Institute. May I introduce to you Dr. Helena Argola, who will elaborate on this legendary, um, legend."

A couple of students muttered among themselves. As Helena centered herself, letting her long, fine hair dangle elegantly behind her back, a boy gave a wolf-whistle. Helena smiled.

"Good morning, boys and girls."

Morgan detected a faint accent, but couldn't quite place it. She focused on the witch's long, Roman nose. Unnervingly, the witch caught Morgan's eye and stared right back at her as she continued talking.

"As Mr. Bell indicated, my name is Dr. Helena Argola. I am a senior research fellow at the Advanced New England Magical Academy, and medieval magical history is my area of expertise. Does anyone have any questions before I begin?"

A boy with greasy hair in the back raised his hand.

"Are you married?" There was a small burst of sniggering.

"Wedge!" Mr. Bell barked warningly.

A girl three seats down from Morgan raised her hand.

"Where did you get your accent from?"

Helena smiled condescendingly. "I am Russian by birth."

Morgan spoke without raising her hand. She stared hard at Helena. "How many languages can you speak?" Morgan forgot why she asked this question the instant she fell silent. Helena arched one eyebrow and smirked at Morgan; the question had apparently taken her by surprise.

"The languages I am fluent in that you might be familiar with are Russian, Greek, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Hebrew, German, French, Italian, and, I hope, English."

The class as a whole gasped with astonishment. Mr. Bell grinned as if he had just caught a twenty-pound fish and was displaying it for show. Morgan noticed for the first time the intricate patterns of Helena's robes and how they coordinated with her eyes to produce a mesmerizing effect. Strangely, Helena did not stop returning Morgan's stare.

"If there are no more questions, I shall begin. The legend of the Four Wands begins with the Eastern Roman Empire during the fourth century at the founding of Constantinople. Once the emperor Constantine established his Byzantine capital, Muggles from Rome and elsewhere flocked to the city, looking for patronage, riches, and professional opportunities. Naturally, the capital attracted witches and wizards as well. While magicians were widely known throughout the Mediterranean, even and especially among Muggles, once they entered Constantinople they had to be secretive with their identities, as the emperors, being for the most part both power-jealous and faithful Christians, were highly intolerant of magic.

"In 382, a circle of witches and wizards decided to establish a center of magical learning. They built their school on the outskirts of the capital, where it was disguised as a monastery. The gray stone they used in its foundation was distinctive, and so the school was called the Gray Stone Academy. For hundreds of years, the Academy accepted into its classrooms thousands of witches and wizards from every corner of the known world; Greeks, Arabs, Slavs, Vandals, Goths, Franks, Huns, Armenians, Africans, and of course Romans all received their magical educations there. The establishment of wand use, regulated Apparition training, organized herbology experiments, and countless incantations that we take for granted, all had their beginnings at the school.

"While the Gray Stone Academy condemned Muggle hatred, its professors implicitly instilled in the student body the idea that Muggles were to be generally avoided. With the empire's many boarder wars, and the endless struggles for imperial power, it is not hard to understand why the wizarding community was wary of its Muggle neighbors. Intellectual wizarding scholars convened in the fifth century and concluded that the Muggles, on their current destructive and greedy pace, would at some point devour all beauty and goodness on the Earth, and so, after hundreds of years and much intense, magical devotion, they and their successors constructed four, golden wands, known as the Nova Wands, or, more bluntly, the Four Wands. These were artifacts of incredible, destructive power, and they were placed at the four farthest reaches of the West at some point in the thirteenth century, after the Gray Stone Academy was obliterated by the Fourth Crusade. The magic of the Wands dictated that when the Muggle population reached a precise number, the Wands would explode, releasing a death curse that would wipe out at least half the humans then in existence.

"To this day the exact magical properties of the Wands are unknown, but once the Wands were retrieved, deactivated, and, as a precautionary measure, destroyed, it was determined that their power was of an accretive nature, so with each passing year, the energy stored within the relics grew. Researchers today have no doubt that if the Wands had not been recovered, their unleashed magic would have diminished the European, Asian, and African populations by no less than a third."

A boy at the front raised his hand. Helena looked at him mildly. "Yes?"

"Wouldn't the Wands have killed wizards and witches along with Muggles?"

"They certainly would have. The academic circle responsible for the creation of the Nova Wands could not discover a means of sorting out exactly who was to be affected by the death blast. It apparently determined that the witches and wizards killed were to be considered acceptable losses."

Morgan slowly and deliberately raised her hand. Helena regarded her with an amused look. "Yes, dear?"

Morgan furrowed her brows when she heard the epithet. "I once read of another legend, the legend of the Fifth Wand." Curiously, Morgan felt a subtle ripple in the air, as if a seed were dropped into a calm lake. Mr. Bell softly chuckled to himself, but Helena kept her lips straight.

"Where did you read this, child?"

Morgan was transfixed by the gray stone of the witch's eyes. She didn't even register Helena's demeaning use of the word 'child'. The classroom, her desk, Mr. Bell, all were distant, almost nonexistent. Morgan's mouth opened, but she didn't answer. Helena seemed to expect nothing less.

"All records available indicate that only four golden wands were created. In fact, there is no reliable evidence whatsoever that the Fifth Wand exists or has ever existed. The legend of the Fifth Wand probably was inspired by fear-mongers and hack poets seeking to profit from people's over-reactions. It does not need to be stated that if there ever was a Fifth Wand, it would have most likely detonated by now."

As Helena finished her rejoinder, Morgan saw her gray eyes stretch. Inexplicably, Morgan felt a movement in her mind, as if her thoughts were caught in a whirlpool. She tried to break the gaze, but was unable to do so. After a couple seconds, Helena grinned widely and looked at the rest of the class. Morgan felt her mind settle. Mr. Bell began speaking, but Morgan was absently staring at her notes scroll, feeling odd and discomfited.

**Colonia, New Jersey, U.S.A., 2011**

**I**

James leaned back in his chair and examined the cards in his hand. Across from him sat a dark-skinned, heavily bearded wizard with long, thick dreadlocks hanging to the nape of his neck. The wizard was serenely glancing at the cards in his hand. To James' right sat his magical cousin, Morgan, and to his left sat his fiancée, Jaime; both were intently staring at their cards. James picked up his can of beer and took a generous swig. Tonight was the first time all four of them were able to get together, in his own apartment no less, and he was soaking in the moment. As he looked at his guests, he felt some alcohol slop onto his blue, football jersey, but he didn't much mind. The radio on the kitchen counter was quietly playing a country song. James touched Jaime's arm.

"Come on, babe, it's your bid."

Jaime exhaled with frustration. "Why do we have to play pinochle?"

James stroked her skin with his fingers. "Because we have to show these magicians that we are not a couple of typically dumb Muggles."

The wizard across from James shook his head. "We wouldn't have thought that no matter what we played."

Jaime laughed. "You're such a gentleman, Confessor! Morgan, where did you two meet?"

Morgan smirked. The light from the overhead electric chandelier highlighted her long, red hair. "At school. And don't be deceived; Connie is nothing short of a rascal."

"I doubt it. How wild is it that you and James just recently found each other out? And that you have twin, magical rings? When James showed me his wand I nearly fell over." Jaime turned beet-red when she finished this sentence, and the table broke out in laughter.

"You know what I mean! Isn't it a wild concept, hon, how the wand 'belongs' to you now, even though you can't use magic? I'm still floored that you were able to take out a wizard!" Jaime once again blushed. "No offense meant, of course, guys."

Confessor lifted the corners of his mouth. "Morgan has not stopped talking about how proud she is of you, James."

"A rascal, and a boaster." Morgan shuffled a few of her cards around. James chuckled gently.

"I was lucky to nab the wand I got. Your wife, Connie, has a peculiar knack at destroying her enemies' weapons."

Morgan scratched her slender chin. "It's all a part of Auror training. The fewer wands lying around, the greater chance your opponent is vulnerable."

James looked at his cousin admirably. "Sounds right to me, although if we came across a fifth wand, you might have kept it as a backup."

Morgan briskly raised her head at James. Jaime looked at her fiancée's hand.

"James, your ring!"

James felt his hand grow warm. He looked at the table and saw that the garnet embedded in his ring was brightly glowing. Surprisingly, Morgan grabbed his hand firmly. James looked at her and felt the blood quicken beneath his skin. Morgan was staring wide-eyed at him and she spoke with unnatural deliberation and great volume.

"There is no Fifth Wand. It doesn't exist. Am I clear?"

Confessor dropped his cards on the table and stood up. "Sugar, what's wrong?"

James blinked and Morgan released his hand. The garnet on his right hand ceased glowing. Morgan looked around and gave a series of short breaths. Jaime's mouth was open and she darted her eyes between James and Morgan.

"Okay, that was weird."

James pushed his chair back and stood up. "Morgan, let me get you a glass of water."

"Thank you, James, but I think I'm okay. I just need to be still for a minute."

Confessor walked around to Morgan and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we go home and check you out. I'd feel better."

Morgan looked up at him and glumly nodded. She rose from the table and the two of them started to shuffle out of the kitchen. Confessor shook James' hand.

"Sorry to cut this so short, but I want to know what's going on. If there's a magical ailment, as a Healer I may be able to help. We'll get in touch later."

Jaime stood up and simpered. "It was so nice meeting you guys! Maybe next time we can see your daughter. Morgan, I hope you feel better."

Confessor and Morgan closed the door behind them as they left James' apartment. Jaime keenly looked at her fiancée. James put his hands in his pockets.

"Witches. What can I tell you?"

**II**

James stretched out his legs on the couch. Outside the rain was beating against the window in waves. He tried calling Morgan twice that morning, but he got no answer. He rotated his neck slowly and closed his eyes. His cell phone rang.

"McBride."

"James, it's Morgan. Sorry I missed your calls. I've never gotten used to these cellular phones."

"How are you feeling?"

"I've got issues. We need to talk. Are you decent?"

James looked down at his beer-stained football jersey and his sweat pants.

"Somewhat."

James heard a faint popping noise, and coming around the corner into the living room was Morgan. Her robes were jet black and her long, red hair was frazzled. James stood up.

"What took you so long?"

Morgan smiled faintly and sat down on the leather chair. "Sorry about last night."

"What the heck happened? You want something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Morgan drew her swarthy, short wand and pointed it at the television. "I hope you don't mind. ." Morgan flicked her wand and the sound and the picture vanished. James sat back down.

"You know, I have a remote that can do that."

Morgan pushed a lock of hair from her eyes and ignored his comment.

"I have much to tell you. Last night you spoke two words in succession, 'fifth'," Morgan paused for a second. "And 'wand'. As we converse, I must insist you do not do so again."

"Sorry if I offended you."

"You don't understand." Morgan sat back in the chair and loudly blew air from her mouth. She then leaned over onto her knees. "I better start with the legend of the Four Wands."

James listened to Morgan as she explained the legend, the background, and the wizarding urban myth of the Fifth Wand.

"So I don't get it. There's another one of these golden wands that wasn't discovered?"

"Yes. The fact that there's another Nova Wand is a really big problem. Thankfully, with the help of Confessor, I was able to dig up some information." Morgan aimed her wand at an angle above her forehead, and there appeared a revolving, transparent bust of a woman with fine, blond hair. James was intrigued by her long, smooth nose and her obvious beauty.

"Who is she?"

"Her name, according to the records, is Helena Argola. She is a magical researcher currently working out of San Diego. Some time ago, when I was at school, she gave a lecture concerning the Four Wands. During her talk, I brought up the legend of the Fifth, and," Morgan swallowed, "there's no other way to say it; she violated my mind."

James narrowed his gaze at his cousin. She continued to speak.

"She manipulated and programmed my thoughts, so that if I ever heard anyone mention the undiscovered Wand by its numerical name, I would transmit to the speaker a very complicated, very powerful Obliviation curse that would cause the person to firstly disbelieve the putative legend, and secondly, cause the person to act as an additional transmitter of the spell should anyone further mention the final Nova Wand."

James held up his right hand and examined his garnet-studded ring. "I'm guessing you weren't wearing yours at school."

"Correct. As you have deduced, your ring was able to block the curse, and Confessor was able to remove the implant from my mind and restore my memory. However, because the curse operates on the theory of chain reaction, there could be hundreds, maybe thousands of people infected."

"What about written records?"

"Any mention of the Wand in books, scrolls, tablets, pictures, has been erased, as far as we can tell."

James heard the clock tick on the wall. He shook his head. "This is incredible."

"It gets worse. We discovered Argola fashioned a Taboo for the spoken words, which means if anyone not affected by the Obliviation magic utters the name, and is not in the presence of a curse-carrier, she will be alerted."

James rubbed his chin. "And you think she has the Wand, and is eradicating all knowledge of it so no one interferes with her."

"I _know_ she has the Wand." Morgan jabbed her wand at the television; on the screen an image of a marble fountain formed. The stone was worked to resemble a very old man with a very long beard sitting with his legs crossed. Water was gushing out of his mouth. Morgan made little circles with her wand tip, and the focus point honed in on the golden wand the old man was holding in his hand. James whistled.

"There it is."

"This was a scrying picture Confessor and I captured last night which depicts Argola's backyard in California."

"Why is she holding onto it?"

"I don't know. I suspect she is a zealous adherer of the Gray Stone Academy's philosophies. She might have found a way to increase the Wand's powers so it delivers a more devastating blow when it detonates. It doesn't really matter; I'm taking her into custody. Psychic manipulation alone is a first-class felony, and that's only when it's committed once."

James stretched the muscles in his back. "So what's the game plan, boss?"

Morgan dropped her wand to her side and looked steadily at James.

"I must emphasize that this is by no means an official mission and you are under no obligation to follow me. Speaking as an Auror, I don't believe I have the time or luxury to mount a full-scale, administration-approved expedition. I have to capture that wand as soon as possible, since it could explode at any time."

James smiled. "You're not scaring me away yet."

Morgan weakly returned the smile. "Please do not be mistaken; Argola is a very powerful, very brilliant witch. From what Confessor and I could gather, she is a highly skilled Legilimens, which means she can read people's thoughts. Also, she has a very rare and uncanny gazing ability that allows her to control people's actions. Your assistance would be crucial, since Argola would consider it extraordinarily unlikely that a Muggle could penetrate her home."

James breathed out. "A Muggle's greatest advantage, huh?"

"That's the idea."

"Have you gotten any sleep?" James asked blankly.

"For Aurors, there are ways around sleep."

James stood up and offered Morgan his hand.

"Okay. I'm in, partner. Let's get to work."

Morgan laughed and took her cousin's hand. "If we survive this, I'm making you an honorary wizard."

James looked pleased, but then frowned. "We won't be doing that Apparating thing, will we?"

Morgan gave him a mischievous wink, fiercely tightened her grip on his hand, twisted her body, and the two of them vanished. James' scream echoed in the apartment briefly.

**III**

Morgan walked up the stone steps of the mansion. The brass knocker on the large, wooden door was in the shape of a lioness. She thought of the gray eyes that once weaved their way into her psyche, and she gripped her wand firmly. She took the ring dangling from the lioness' mouth, and pushed it hard against the thick wood.

The door opened, and standing before Morgan was the same tall, blond witch she remembered from Salem. Her appearance, alarmingly, was unchanged; Morgan upon first glance could see she hadn't aged at all. Her robes were a disarming white and blue. Morgan tucked her right hand beneath her robes.

Helena looked down on Morgan with her round, gray eyes; they seemed amused, inviting. She spoke with an unknown accent.

"How may I help you?"

Morgan raised her wand, and Helena's eyes at once became cold and hard.

"You will find that any spell you cast at me will not be able to cross the threshold of the house, so you would be wise to lower your wand. .child." Helena smiled fiendishly as she gazed at Morgan.

Morgan kept her back straight. "You remember me?"

"Of course. If you wish, you may cross the barrier, but only when you have checked your wand at the door."

Morgan stared at Helena and nodded submissively. She passed the threshold and placed her wand in a silver vase that was perched on an ivory stand next to the door. Helena guided her down the long, candle-lit hallway. On the walls between them were many oil portraits of men and a few women, all looking at Morgan. One, a light-complexioned wizard in a powdered wig, leaned forward in his frame. He said something harsh in German.

Helena pressed her hand against Morgan's back and kept her moving forward. "Please forgive Tobias. He was my twenty-sixth husband, and he never had much tact."

They entered an enormous drawing room. There were many chairs, sofas, and loveseats, all covered in fine upholstery. A large fire was burning in the grate. All four walls were completely draped with paintings. Most were of natural settings, but a few were scenes of social life. The art was immobile.

"As you can tell all of these canvases were worked upon by non-magical hands. In fact, when I moved to America in 1906, I tried to re-establish the great European salon tradition that Muggles once were fond of. Many, many people, witches, wizards, goblins, elves, and Muggles alike, have sat in these seats."

By the light of the glowing chandeliers, Morgan could see the largest painting in the room was a portrait of Helena herself, hanging tall above the mantle. She was captured in the act of gliding across a dark room. Her hair was sweeping across her gray robes, and she was crowned by a high, conical, gray cap.

"I had that one commissioned in the sixteenth century by a Flemish master. He found the costume inappropriate, but I wanted something to remember my school days by."

Morgan looked at Helena with shock. "The Gray Stone Academy."

Helena bowed her head. "To be candid, I was its greatest graduate. Upon the death of its headmaster, who, incidentally, was my first husband, I received a Sorcerer's Stone and was able to prolong my life. The following eight hundred years have been. . .interesting." Helena grinned, but suddenly her mouth lost all warmth. "Now tell me, why have you come here?"

Morgan felt a drop of sweat blossom on the top of her head. She wasn't sure how much time she had, and the news of Helena's immortality was scrambling her thoughts in all directions, but she was determined not to let her Occulmency falter. Her right hand felt hot and prickly. "I'm here to collect two things." Morgan took a step towards Helena. "You," she drew out with her right hand James' pale wand. Her garnet ring was pulsing with crimson light. "And the Fifth Wand."

Helena's gray eyes quaked in their sockets, but she gave a twisted smile. Without speaking, she raised both her arms, and all the light from the drawing room was extinguished. Morgan lit her borrowed wand; Helena was nowhere to be seen. Cursing, Morgan ran into the hallway and headed for the rear of the mansion.

After a minute she found herself in a brick-lined kitchen where a house elf was stirring something in a cauldron over the fire. The elf turned towards Morgan, but Morgan stunned him before he could take any further action. She saw there was a door that opened onto a kitchen garden in the backyard. She bolted through this passage and scanned the area; about fifty meters in front of her, nestled in a gentle dip between two copses of trees, was the fountain. Against its dull marble, something golden was shimmering in the sun.

She raced up to the statue of the old man and could feel the triumph pumping in her brain; the last Nova Wand was before her. She reached over the small pool and tried to grab the relic, but her fingers passed through it as if it were a yellow hologram. She pointed her wand at it, but before she could cast anything, the wand flew out of her hand back towards the house. She whipped around and saw Helena standing by the back door. She caught Morgan's wand with her right hand, and in her left, immaculately bright and encircled with golden, Greek letters, was the Fifth Wand.

Helena pointed the golden wand at Morgan, who instantly was immobilized. Helena tossed James' wand on the grass. "I admire your courage, sense of justice, and respect for human life. You would have done the Academy proud. Perhaps you will be comforted when I tell you that I transmuted the Fifth Wand centuries ago; it will not explode and cause widespread fatalities. However, while its magical function has changed, its pure, unprecedented power has not. I know this since I assisted in the final stages of its development." Helena paused and snickered to herself. "You know, I've never asked for much in life, and as a result, I've been bombarded with everything life has to offer. The number of men and women I've known, and the number of times they have loved, hated, worshipped, and betrayed me, would exceed all the red hairs on your head. I wish to experience it all no longer." Helena started walking at Morgan. "What bargain can I make with you that will allow me to live with the Wand in peace?"

Morgan felt her tongue loosen. "None. The Wand must be destroyed. Its power is too immense, and there's no guarantee it will not revert to its original purpose."

Helena spoke softly and with a surprising amount of sadness. "Power. .there, you have hit upon my greatest weakness. I'm sorry, dear, but I have no intention of destroying. ."

Morgan saw Helena's left arm pull up awkwardly; the Fifth Wand capered in the air for a second before James, shedding Morgan's disillusionment charm and becoming visible, was seen holding it.

"NO!" Helena bellowed as she faced James.

Morgan felt her body yield to her control once more. She sprinted back towards the mansion. As she was running, she saw the Fifth Wand flash blindingly white. James roared in pain and dropped it on the grass. Helena bent to pick it up, but before she could, Morgan barreled into her and they both flew into a patch of peppers. Morgan forced Helena onto her stomach and bent her arm sharply behind her back. Helena shrieked in pain and stopped struggling. Morgan glanced quickly at James.

"Can you pick it up?"

James looked confused and he shook his head. "When I go near it, my hands get burned."

Helena pushed her face sideways. "You don't understand! He has won the Wand, but the Wand doesn't understand that he's a Muggle! It's becoming demented!"

Morgan looked at the golden wand lying in the grass; it started smoking and vibrating. Amazingly, a spell shot out of its tip. Morgan heard a deep, ominous rumble coming from the fountain. She looked back.

"Oh my God."

The marble statue of the bearded, old man was increasing in size; water was no longer spraying out of his mouth. Once he was three floors tall, he stopped growing and his eyes shone red. He stood up and sank slightly in the crushed pool. He looked at Morgan, James, and Helena, and let blast a brain-damaging howl. Morgan looked back down at Helena.

"Release your house enchantments and I can Apparate us all out of here."

Helena breathed fiercely. "No! If we don't contain the Nova Wand it will belch forth its rage until the entire Pacific Coast is annihilated! Our only chance is for me to reclaim it!"

"That's not going to happen!" James exclaimed.

"You fools! Our destruction is imminent unless I can pick up that wand!"

Morgan lunged over and tried to pick up the Fifth Wand. Before her fingers were within a foot of it, they were boiling and blistering. She pulled her hand back and watched as the gargantuan statue took a step in their direction with a spectacular thud. She jumped up from Helena and grabbed James' wand lying in the dirt. She was relieved she could feel its warmth in her palm. She pointed it at the Fifth Wand.

"_Expulso_!"

The Fifth Wand, instead of blowing apart, only smoked and shuddered more. Helena pushed herself up on her knees and crawled towards the Wand. When she reached for it, she yelped in pain and yanked her hand back.

"We're doomed!"

The statue took another step; the mansion behind Morgan shook. She started slashing her wand at the enchanted monstrosity, but all her curses bounced off its stony beard like rain against a car windshield. She felt herself shoved aside; James stepped forward and aimed his Glock.

"Run away from me! Hurry! Both of you!"

Before Morgan could respond, James unloaded his clip. The bullets crashed into the statue's narrow knees, and marble chips began flying in every direction. Morgan covered her head and took a few steps to the side, but then the deafening gunfire ceased. She looked up and saw most of the stone forming the monster's knees was shattered. The statue gave a last bellow and toppled forward. Morgan screamed and made to push her cousin out of harm's way, but he was already clear. The statue plummeted onto the Fifth Wand; there was a high-pitched screech, and the marble old man turned into a large, billowing cloud of dust.

Silence and stillness reigned for a moment. Morgan saw Helena, her gray eyes wide, walk slowly towards the point of impact. She fell on her knees and began pushing the dark dust away from the grass. She looked at James.

"It is destroyed. It would seem that it knew you for its master, even though its power was too great for you to pick it up. The fifth and final Nova Wand, done in by a Muggle. . how appropriate."

Morgan flicked her wand and Helena's hands and legs became bound in metal.

"You will release your house elf from your service, and then you will come with us."

Helena sighed. "Please retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone and pulverize it." She looked at Morgan and was smiling, even as tears trickled down her begrimed cheeks. "I am finally ready for eternity."

**IV**

Jaime looked at the shelf and pulled out a slim book.

"How about this one? _The Rainbow Dragon_. That sounds neat!"

Circe was lying on the floor on her back, tossing a small, golden ball into air. Her bright, purple robes were spread out beneath her, and Jaime couldn't shake the image of an overgrown flower. Circe was chewing a wad of gum, but that didn't deter her from speaking.

"I've already read that one. It's pretty lame."

Jaime replaced the book on the shelf and turned around. "How about a game?"

Circe stopped tossing the ball. "Do you know anything about Quidditch?"

"Um. .is that anything like pinochle?"

Circe rolled her eyes and continued throwing the ball in the air. Jaime thought it would have been a fantastic experience babysitting Morgan and Confessor's daughter, but Circe for the last three hours was admittedly difficult. Jaime patiently endured the pouting, the pleading, and the silent treatments, and she wondered if she acted as abrasively when she was ten years old.

There was a sound at the front door, and into the house walked Confessor, Morgan, and James. Circe rolled over and shot up off the ground. Confessor rubbed her head and looked at Jaime.

"How did everyone make out?"

Jaime brightened up. "Fine! How was the hearing?"

Morgan removed her amber cloak and her Auror insignia from her robes. "Maybe James should tell you."

Jaime looked expectantly at her fiancée. He flashed her a grin and held out a gold brooch studded with diamonds, sapphires and rubies; the gems were placed in a way that resembled the design of the U.S. national flag, and the flag was shaped like a wizard's hat. Jaime's eyes widened.

"That is so cool! So what does that mean?"

"It probably means more paperwork." James joked.

Morgan shook her head. "It means James is an honorary Auror! In the two hundred and eighty years since our offices were established on this continent, he's only the third Muggle to ever be so honored, and the first in over one hundred years!"

Jaime felt her whole face light up with joy and pride. "So first you get a wand, and now you have a badge! Oh, honey!" She jumped into his arms and hugged him. James held her tight.

"Just imagine; all I need now is the hat and my Halloween costume is ready."

Everyone laughed. Circe went over to Morgan and leaned against her leg.

"What's going to happen to the witch?"

Morgan looked down at her daughter. "She has been sent away for a while where she won't be able to hurt anyone." Circe lowered her eyes and nodded. Morgan clasped her chin. "Have you been good for Ms. Jaime, Circe?"

Jaime beamed. "She's been great! She wanted me to play Quit Age, but I wasn't sure if that was dangerous or not."

Confessor laughed. "Yea, it's dangerous." He walked towards the dining room. "I'll get dinner started." Circe skipped after her father. James looked at Morgan.

"Why don't we get out of here. It'll give you a chance to rest."

Morgan pushed both her cousin and Jaime onto the couch. "No. Family sticks around." After stating this, Morgan strode towards the kitchen after her husband and daughter.


End file.
